Broken
by mooncroww
Summary: Some things are worth dying for. Some things are not.


Broken

A/N This is… well… this came to me… just read it. Review please. I haven't gone over it. If there are any glaring mistakes or what have you just let me know... it hurt to much to read it over more than once. Sorry.

Disclaimer- I own nothing.

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Her fingers are gentle as she brushes his hair. Patiently she untangles the matted knots and pulls the leaves and bits of mud away. It is tedious work. The comb creates as many snarls as it removes. For long moments she waits for him to flinch, to pull away, to shout at her. He does not move, rather he leans into the press of her hands, enjoying the feeling on his scalp. She smiles hopefully.

"When I am done, you will be handsome again." Her voice seems to echo around them, despite the closeness of the room.

He does not speak an answer. Instead he turns to face her, grey eyes empty, face blank.

"You will be your old self. I promise." She continues.

She does not know why she speaks this way. Perhaps it is her maternal instinct surfacing. The thought makes her laugh.

"My old self." He whispers at last, voice hoarse.

"We'll get you cleaned up and see to those wounds." She gestures to his arm which is tucked tight against him in a sling. They both know she is lying. The hand is beyond repair, he will never use it again.

There is little to be done with his hair anymore. The large tangles are gone and it lays flat as it once did. Dirt and blood and bits of grass still cling to it in places. She will have to bathe him later. Sighing, she places the comb on her bedside table and dips a rag in bowl of warm water. A spell would be easier. With purpose she lifts her wand. He shouts and throws his arm over his face, suddenly frightened.

"I just thought…"

"No… please… don't… I'm sorry… I didn't mean too." He pleads, scrambling across the bed.

She puts her wand away, out of sight. "It's gone now, Draco."

It takes several minutes to calm him. Eventually he consents and takes his seat on the edge of the bed. With slow, deliberate movements she washes his face. The layer of mud that encrusted his sharp features begins to fade. He is all over bruises. His nose is crooked and probably broken. That will have to be seen to.

"Will you tell me what happened?" She asks in a soft voice.

He looks at her again. "You know what happened."

It was true. She did. Everyone knew.

"Yes." She agrees.

"He came for us. Came to destroy us… me"

"And then?"

"He killed her. He killed my mother and… I couldn't move."

"Did he say anything?"

"I… I don't remember."

She knew. The Dark Lord had taken his vengeance and left the boy with his dead mother. Her sister. They found him a week later in a farmer's field. His hand was crushed to little more than pulp and his body was covered in filth. He would not tell how he came to be there or what had injured him.

"I ran." He licks his lips and looks away.

"Come, we will bathe you."

"I don't…"

"You must be presentable tonight."

He nods and attempts to stand. His legs hold him but he leans on her for balance. She leads him to the bathroom and helps him remove his clothing. For a moment he stares into the steaming water, shaking uncontrollably, then carefully steps into the tub. She supports him as he sits. The water washes away the rest of the dirt, revealing more bruises and cuts. Most are healing well enough, but a few still ooze when the cloth brushes them.

"He will kill me." He murmurs as she works the soap through his hair.

"No." Though she is not certain.

"He has killed me."

A pitcher of water rinses his hair and leaves him cleansed. With a great deal of effort he climbs back to his feet and stands still while she dries him.

"Draco…" She begins, but stops.

"Auntie." He replies.

Once back in her room, she helps him put on clean clothing. His nose and hand can be seen to in the morning. She brushes his blonde hair with her fingertips and feels tears well up in her eyes.

"Draco… some things are worth dying for."

He shrugs, "Yes, but what is worth living for?"

She takes his hand in her own and leads him like a child. Suddenly she realizes that he is a child. Swallowing hard she wonders if he is right. Dying… everyone is dying, but is anything worth being broken?


End file.
